Prisoner of the Light
by Lactuca
Summary: There has been a great betrayal against the Light. Things don't always turn out the way they should. Ch 3: More flashbacks!
1. Prologue: Regret

**Title**: Prisoner of the Light

**Summary**: There has been a great betrayal against the Light. An antidote to those Azkaban stories.

**Disclaimer**: Is it actually legally necessary to put this in? I highly doubt that JK employs lawyers to scan this site looking for those among us that leave this part off. I clearly own nothing, this site is called , why say what we all know?

**Notes**: I warn you, this will cast a few characters that I like a great deal in a rather unfavourable light. Also, as this is a little darker, or meant to be, I've tried in some bits to write in a slightly different style than is my inclination. I'm not sure how successful that has been. You tell me I guess.

I have also realised that there is a, shall we say slight, plot hole in this. The story takes place after OotP, but there are still Dementors at Azkaban... Well, they're needed for the purpose of this story and they're staying. If you need an explanation for them then lets pretend that Dementors are a little more sentient than we've seen so far. They do join Voldemort and they do march with him in some attack or other. In this attack however many of the Dementors are harmed/killed by the forces of the light. The Dementors then split into two factions, some of whom decide that the expanded scope for their powers and pleasures is worth the extra risk and some who decide that it is not. Those that decide the risk is too great go back to the Minister and Fudge welcomes them as proof that all this Lord Whatsit stuff is being a bit over hyped and puts them back at their old post. Is that okay?

I realise this AN is now longer than the chapter, but this is just the prologue! The chapters will get longer people!

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Prologue- Regrets 

The cold was getting stronger as the little boat rocked its way to its destination. The cold was becoming a tangible presence, coiling out tendrils through the air and wrapping around any people it could find. Even Albus Dumbledore shivered before it and hunched slightly into his robes, unable to suppress the tremor. The older of the two Aurors sitting in front of Dumbledore gave him a strange look, almost as if he might be an impostor. Albus Dumbledore never shivered, everyone knew that.

The other Auror was oblivious, eyes fixed instead on the speck on the horizon that Dumbledore so resolutely had his back turned to, red hair whipping in the freezing wind. His eyes were blank, as if he were listening to some distant tune or voice. Before the young wizard could feel the weight of his gaze Dumbledore glanced back to the other Auror, who was still eying him oddly. Dumbledore thought about giving a bit of a twinkle, but just didn't have the heart. Instead he abandoned all pretense and buried his old head in his hands.

Dumbledore was by no means infallible. He'd made mistakes in the past, many of which had serious or potentially serious repercussions. Quirrell for one, Sirius and Peter, Tom Riddle, Barty Crouch and even that fool Lockhart. But none had ever struck so close to his heart before. Never had he been such a poor judge of character. This was a man he'd held almost as dear to himself as a son, despite the misgivings of others and the press. A man he'd trusted with his life and the lives of others, countless times. A man he'd defended against countless seemingly unfounded accusations and continued to believe in right till the very end.

A great betrayal had been committed against the Light.


	2. Chapter 1: On Trial

**Title**: Prisoner of the Light

**Summary**: There has been a great betrayal against the Light. An antidote to those Azkaban stories.

**Disclaimer**: See Prologue

**Notes**: I warn you, this will cast a few characters that I like a great deal in a rather unfavourable light. Also, as this is a little darker, or meant to be, I've tried in some bits to write in a slightly different style than is my inclination. I'm not sure how succesful that has been. You tell me I guess.

Oh, and this takes place before the Prologue, in case anyone out there is confused. The last part takes place before the beginning of this chapter, but also before the prologue. It makes complete sense.

**Chapter 1- On Trial**

At first the whole seemed like a farce, a giant joke. No-one believed the charges that the Ministry was placing against one Harry James Potter, not even Fudge. Fudge was on his way out, swept away in the tide of his own lies, promises and bullshit. This was a pathetic last attempt to seize control that probably seemed like a good idea at the time, but that now, in the court room, seemed like suicide. Fudge was drowning, and even he knew it.

The court room was filled with well-wishers and presided over by Dumbledore. The Weasleys, Hermione, Remus Lupin, most of the Order, all of them were there, and alight with the knowledge of Harry's innocence. Even Snape seemed merely bored. Fudge was sweating.

Having made such a mess of the last trial Harry had been in, Fudge had hired the equivalent of a lawyer. Blair was rich, connected, intelligent and totally in league with Voldemort, though nothing had ever been proved. A Malfoy with short dark hair and a different name. To everyone's surprise, he called Harry to the stand. Harry's supporters nearly cheered. Now this could be over quickly.

"Are you Harry James Potter?" began the prosecutuion.

"Yes," Harry's voice was calm.

"And you claim to be innocent of the charges levied against you?"

"Yes," came the reply, with even more confidence.

"Well then, lets get this over with quickly. Are you willing to submit to veritaserum to prove this beyond a shadow of a doubt?"

Some people in the courtroom began to believe Blair might be as innocent as he claimed. Fudge attempted to signal Blair over. Harry opened his mouth to reply, looking a bit more uncertain this time, but Dumbledore raised a hand and stopped him.

"While I am in no doubt that Mr Potter would willingly take veritaserum if he could, I am afraid that that is impossible. Tests have shown that Harry is severly allergic to the potion and would not surivive a dose long enough to testify."

Blair arched an elegant eyebrow. "How very convienient. In that case, I suppose we shall have nothing to go on but your word Mr Potter. I'm afraid that-"

Dumbledore interrupted again. "Actually, that is not the case. Knowing of his allergy, and wanting every opportunity to prove his innocence to the court, Mr Potter actually requested before the trial that I look for an alternative truth serum in case one should be needed. I believe Proffessor Snape, Potion Master at Hogwarts, has found this alternative."

Snape stood up at a motion from Dumbledore and addressed the court. "I have. It is much milder than veritaserum and has the effect not of compelling truth, but of supressing lies. A person under the influence of it can choose not to answer a question, but cannot lie if they speak. It is counteracted by drinking water. Too much of it will still produce an allergic reaction in the witness, but we should be able to get at least one dose worth twenty minutes of truth into Potter before he swells up even more."

Dumbledore levied a severe but fond look at his Potions Master at the last bit and Minister Fudge, who had been looking a little better at the news that veritaserum could not be used on Harry Potter, went very pale and started to loosen his tie.

"If that is the case," began Blair, barely faltering at the unexpected news, "Can I ask that the court adjourn until such a time as the prosecution have a suitable potions maker to-"

With the utmost politeness, Dumbledore interupted again, "That won't be nesesarry Mr Blair. I believe we already have some here. Severus?"

Blair had no choice but to aquiesce. With great ceremony, Snape poured a goblet of the potion from a large stone jug and set it and a glass of water before Harry. With a grimace at the glutinous liquid, Harry knocked back the potion and leaned back in his seat for the cross-examination.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes Blair conducted a detailed interrogation of Harry Potter, establishing without a doubt his dislike of the victims, his tragic childhood and his exact movements prior to the murders. He failed, however, to ask the question that everyone in the courtroom really wanted him to ask. At seventeen minutes past the ingestion of the potion Snape felt it nescessary to stand up and inform Blair that the potion would only act for three minutes more and would he please get to the point. Blair thanked him for the reminder, fixed Harry with a steely glare and paused dramatically. Certain members of the audience rolled their eyes and the Wizengamot chief was on the verge of asking the question himself when Blair finally spat it out.

"Harry Potter. Did you kill your uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Dursley, and their son Dudley?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer. "N-" he shut it. Coughed. The crowd stirred. He apologised and tried again. This time he broke out into full blown, body racking coughs. Shaking, he reached for his glass of water. Blair stopped him- that would negate the potion. The prosecutor repeated the question. Harry gathered control of himself and tried once again to answer. The coughing this time was more choking. The prosecutor stepped forward and leaned in, still repeating the question. Harry kept coughing, his face red and blood beginning to appear on his hands as he hacked into them. The prosecutor yelled the question into his face.

"Did you kill them?"

Harry knocked the goblet of potion off the stand in his convulsions and the thick, viscous liquid, the dark black-red colour of congealing blood began to spread ever so slowly out from where he sat across the stone floor. The members of the court sat in disbelief, horror and total silence as Harry was finally allowed to take a drink of water. The choking stopped abruptly. There was denial on his face he looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. Fudge was looking like he just declared himself emperor of the world.

"Th- There must be something wrong with the potion" Harry managed. Snape sneered at this, despite the look of shock that had adorned his face too. Still disbelieving Ron stood up in the stands.

"How do we know the potion isn't wrong? We have to test it." Next to him, Hermione nodded, and they both looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. Fudge looked like he might protest, but before he could, Dumbledore had already agreed. Ron, Dumbledore, Madam Bones and a random member of the audience were selected, and one by one they all took a sip of the potion and answered questions posed by Blair, first instructed to attempt truth, then lies, then truth. With frightning regularity they all answered, choked and answered. Not even Ron could argue that the potion was anything other than perfect as he struggled manfully to tell the court that he was in fact a Slytherin girl.

The mood in the courtroom had swung. Anger, fear and terror now permeated the air as the last of the four test subjects drank their water. There could be no denying it had worked. There could be no denying that Harry had lied. There could be no stopping it as the Wizengamot declared Harry guilty and Fudge triumphantly lead the Dementors to drag Harry away, his pleas finally silenced as the power of the Dementors washed over him.

_--------------_

All of Harry's friends knew about the new water feature that the Dursleys were insisting he build in his last summer there. A natural oval pond with a tasteful fountain as a centerpiece that would fill the garden with the soothing sound of gently falling water. Make everyone want to go to the loo more like, Harry joked. Maybe I'll wait till my birthday and do it with magic he said, give them the fright they deserve. Harry's friends laughed when he said this, knowing that Harry had never gotten along well the Dursleys and was particularly reluctant to go back to the muggles this summer. Him and Dumbledore had had an argument over it, or that was what they said in the common room. Harry had gone to his office one night and come back silent and angry. But they also knew that he didn't have it in him to cause long term harm to them. Or not serious long term harm. Maybe another tail. All the same, Dumbledore was careful to procure a piece of the Ministry's enchanted parchment, the one that would show what spells were performed within the wards of Privet Drive. Planning to watch it just in case Harry got a bit carried away jinxing his cousin, but not expecting it. On the day of Harry's birthday Dumbledore watched the parchment and chuckled at the spells that came up. Three body-binds and three tickling charms. That was all. Nothing that wouldn't wear off within the hour.

Less than half an hour later the wards around the Number Four Privet Drive collapsed. Dumbledore sped to the house to find that all was quiet. Harry was asleep in his room. The Dursleys were lying at the bottom of the filled completed pond in full body-binds.

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	3. Chapter 2: Ooze

**Title**: Prisoner of the Light

**Summary**: There has been a great betrayal against the Light. An antidote to those Azkaban stories.

**Disclaimer**: See Prologue

**Notes**: I warn you, this will cast a few characters that I like a great deal in a rather unfavourable light. Also, as this is a little darker, or meant to be, I've tried in some bits to write in a slightly different style than is my inclination. I'm not sure how successful that has been. You tell me I guess.

Yes, it has been a while. I wanted the new chapter of 'The Early Years' (I really hate that title...) to be my next post, but I'm finding it impossible so here's this instead.

Chapter 2- Ooze 

Four years later on, it was Hermione who finally got it. She was working as a full time Order member, mostly doing research. Hermione was competent in battle when she had to be, a powerful, resourceful and highly knowledgeable witch, but she didn't have the same adrenalin fuelled natural knack for it that you needed to be a field operative in the Order, or the killer instinct. Hermione was a pacifist at heart, so she stayed at home and probably ended up doing more good for the Light in her work there than five top Aurors.

Ron actually had become an Auror, but Hermione hadn't spoken to him properly in a very long while. Despite the rather non-platonic relationship Hermione had had with Ron at the time of Harry's arrest, and Harry's almost third wheel status in their group by the end of his last year, he turned out to be the glue that had held them together. The stress of not having him there to offload onto and give them something to calm down for coupled with the horror of their best friend's betrayal had been the greatest test for Hermione's and Ron's relationship, and they had failed. So Ron was an Auror and Hermione did not speak to him, though there was no animosity on her side, just the sad feeling of a missed opportunity. Hermione got the feeling from their sparse communication that Ron was not exactly happy, despite the status of the job he'd always wanted. Ron was above average for the normal wizard, but frankly mediocre in the Aurors. He and most of the Order knew that he did not quite deserve the post, having ridden in on a combination of Harry-fame and Harry-sympathy. This fact had only served to widen the distance between him and Hermione.

The War had been dragging on for longer than anyone wanted, and luck seemed to be on the wrong side. Remus Lupin was dead, killed by a Deatheater who, rather tragically, had actually already been captured. The Deatheater had broken from his bonds and killed Remus before turning on Professor Snape, who managed to hit him with Avada Kedavra a little too late for Remus. The Order had all used body binds or stronger restraints since. Percy had died in a final, meaningless rebellion against the Order, refusing to leave the Ministry building before it was attacked, despite the warnings of his parents and Dumbledore and still warring with his family. Ginny had been raped by a Deatheater and conceived a child, retreating to the American muggle world to raise it in the relative quiet there, bitter and angry but unable not to love her own daughter. Neville had been eaten, in very mysterious circumstances, by one of his own plants, one the whole Order knew he was perfectly capable of controlling. No trace had been found of his body, other than some blood and tissue on and in the plant. Most blamed it on stress and passed on, not seeing it as a great set back to the cause. They were hardened to loss. Hermione alone missed him, both for the rather excellent plant ingredients he could always provide for spells, and for his company. Several Order members had simply disappeared without a trace, Professor McGonagall among them.

To be quite frank, it was not a good time.

This night however, they had managed to capture a Deatheater, which was pretty much as good as it got. Not a particularly high-ranking one, but a Deatheater nonetheless. Hermione and Tonks were starting in on the Order's standard illegal questioning under veritaserum, routinely performed on any prisoners they caught before turning them to the Ministry, if they did so at all. Pulling off the white mask, and thinking of the muggle Scream movies as she always did at the Death Eater's traditional garb, Hermione recognised Marcus Flint. Unsurprised, she held out her hand to Tonks for the veritaserum when Flint gave a sudden almighty heave, unable to break from the chains that held him but succeeding in tipping his chair over. He cracked his head painfully as he did so but also knocked the vial of serum from Tonks' hand so that the potion spilled and the glass container cracked.

"Drat! That was our last one," cursed the Auror, "What now?"

"See if we have any alternatives," said Hermione calmly, placing Flint under the full bodybind and leaving him on the floor.

Tonks returned a few moments later with a new potion, in a mug this time, and carefully Hermione poured some into Flint's mouth and compelled him to swallow with a simple medical spell, still not setting Flint upright. "What potion is this?" she asked Tonks as she stood back up. The name Tonks told her was familiar, but Hermione quashed the surge of memory with only some difficulty and proceeded to question Flint. An hour or so and judicious use of some of the milder pain curses soon revealed that he knew nothing of use, and Tonks stunned him in disgust as they gave up. She dragged him to the corner and began cleaning up while Hermione spread the notes she had made on a nearby table.

Hermione could no longer hold back the flood of the past as the distraction of the Deatheater disappeared. Memories flashed through her mind- the incredulity of the Order when they first learned of the charges, the confidence on Harry's face as he took the stand, the disbelief of Dumbledore's as his favourite student practically confessed to the unforgivable, the clatter that rang through the courtroom as the goblet of potion fell to the floor and the leftover potion pooled like blood on the cold stone floor, the- Hermione was shocked out of her thoughts when Tonks tripped spectacularly over nothing at all and flew forward, abandoning her hold on the mug of potion to stop her headlong descent. The mug crashed down on the floor as Tonks hadn't, the potion still inside splashing onto Hermione's notes as it flew overhead. Quickly Hermione gathered up her papers out of the way of the rapidly spreading potion. She looked around for a cloth and mentally cursed as she noticed the potion dripping onto the floor as well then froze. Hermione's memory jarred. Tonks' frantic apologies faded out as Hermione stared fixedly at the floor, a previous memory appearing once again in her mind's eye. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't right at all.

"What potion did you say this was Tonks?" she asked, cutting effectively through the ongoing babble from her friend. Tonks looked uncomfortable as she repeated the name. Hermione didn't look up. "That was the one they used at Harry's trial." It wasn't a question. Something was very, very wrong.

Tonks shifted from apologetic to sympathetic as Hermione murmured, "This isn't right. This wasn't the way it was."

"I know Hermione," Tonks put on her most soothing voice, "None of it was. But sometimes you just don't get people, you never really know what is going on in a- "

"No," said Hermione, "No, that's not what I mean at all." She raced from the room.

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	4. Chapter 3: Undertow

**Title**: Prisoner of the Light

**Summary**: There has been a great betrayal against the Light. An antidote to those Azkaban stories.

**Disclaimer**: Is it actually legally necessary to put this in? I highly doubt that JK employs lawyers to scan this site looking for those among us that leave this part off. I clearly own nothing, this site is called , why say what we all know?

**Notes**: I warn you, this will cast a few characters that I like a great deal in a rather unfavourable light. Also, as this is a little darker, or meant to be, I've tried in some bits to write in a slightly different style than is my inclination. I'm not sure how successful that has been. You tell me I guess.

We're in the past again here. Until the last bit, which is the present again. Am I insulting anyone's intelligence with these notes? I only put these in because sometimes the point of flashbacks and odd timelines in stories only seems to be to confuse, and I'm just sort of enjoying them. It annoys the hell out of me when other people do them, but then, this whole fic would annoy the hell out of me if I were reading it. I think there's also a rather clumsy attempt to create tension in there too. And disguise a weak plot.

**Chapter 3- Undertow**

_Here we go again_, thought Hermione, _it always comes back to this,_ _no matter what we do_. Ron was ranting again, pacing the room and practically spitting with rage. Unable to keep up any more with the seemingly infinite amount of rage her boyfriend managed to pull out of nothing, Hermione collapsed into a chair and covered her eyes with her hand just so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. It took over a minute, but eventually Ron realised that she was no longer listening. Hermione heard him pause and then the sound of another chair creaking as chairs always did when Ron sat in them. Sat was perhaps the wrong term. Ron stood in front of them and then dropped like someone had cut all his strings. What with how tall he'd gotten he usually had a large amount of momentum before he hit bottom. Once Hermione had found this endearing, but now it set her teeth on edge and she quelled the urge to snap at him about it, knowing that it would just start another fight about the irrationality of women.

"I'm doing it again aren't I," she heard Ron say from the armchair opposite. His voice was simply exhausted now and Hermione finally looked back up at him.

"We do seem to be following a pattern here," was her cool reply.

"It just makes no sense." Ron's voice was still quiet, but the sentiment one was one he'd screamed at the top of his lungs so many times he no longer needed to to rile Hermione.

"So you keep saying Ron," it was her voice that was rising now, "but I still don't see you making any actual point here!"

"Snape-" Hermione didn't give him time to start again.

"Snape did nothing! You were there! You tried the damn potion! How many times do we have to have this conversation? It's _never_ Snape! You just don't like him! You never have and you always just spring right back to the same thing when the rest of us got over it in FIRST YEAR!"

Ron stood up again, "What other explanation could there be? You can't believe it, I know you can't!"

"I- the evidence-" Hermione stuttered.

"This isn't about evidence! It's about more than that! You always have to look at things logically and coolly and find the correct answer! Try feeling something for once!"

Hermione ignored the jab at her and tried with limited success to sound calmer, "You think I like this? That I don't _wish_ things were different? It doesn't matter what I _want_ to believe. You can't just say 'oh, the evidence doesn't matter' and make it true!" Realising what was going on Hermione forced herself to stop. "We are not having this discussion again." She sat back down and looked away from Ron.

"Yes we are," came the reply and another complaint from the chair, "And next week too." Hermione looked at a newly calm Ron. "When did we start fighting all the time?" he asked.

"We've always fought all the time Ron. I think the question is when did it stop being..." Hermione searched for the right word.

"Foreplay?" offered Ron. Once, Hermione would have laughed, but now she just nodded. "I think we both know," he continued darkly, "It was-"

"Don't Ron," Hermione raised a hand to shush him, "Just please don't."

A glower was her answer, "You never let me talk anymore." Annoyance again.

"You only ever want to talk about one thing!"

"You never even _think_ about it do you? Wouldn't be rational!" the resentment in Ron's voice nearly made Hermione flinch.

"Didn't you once complain that we talked about him too much?" she said, once again ignoring the personal jibe.

"When I did, did you listen?" Ron threw back. As that had in fact been the start of their relationship, Hermione chose not to ignore the comment.

"I did actually, if you recall." That silenced Ron briefly. Briefly.

"You always used to worry about him Hermione, but now you can't even hear his name."

"I don't see you throwing it around!" Hermione forced herself yet again not to rise, "It's pointless, that's all." She could see Ron opening his mouth to yell, taking a deep breath, no doubt to _really_ get his message across, and Hermione knew that she couldn't take anymore, and that he couldn't either.

"What are we doing?" she asked him. Ron gave her a quizzical look, and Hermione felt another stab of irrational anger at having to explain herself, at the way his eyebrows lifted at her as if he was still eleven and she was telling him to study, at his half open mouth like he was some kind of idiot and the fact that in some ways he was actually right. Denial was something Hermione didn't usually indulge in, but here it was. Hermione didn't believe it, even though she knew it had to be true, and she couldn't stand to think about it, to talk about it all the damn time like Ron wanted. He made her think about things she didn't want to think about and he did it all the time. Hermione didn't know if she was being the irrational one now, but she needed her denial. She didn't want to become the suppressed, irritable person she was becoming around Ron and all the things he reminded her of. Most of her knew that she still loved Ron underneath it all, and she didn't want him to become the angry, hen-pecked caricature of himself that he was becoming either. They weren't doing each other any favours here.

For years Hermione had been imagining a happy future filled with little red headed children and a warmly loving, wonderfully thoughtless husband, but in that moment she let it go. She didn't know if those people even existed anymore. Hermione looked up at Ron with an emotion other than anger or irritation for the first time in what felt like years and spoke.

"I can't do this anymore," she said.

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Hermione didn't really expect pacing to help, but she couldn't think of anything else to do at the moment. She'd looked up all the information she could and her conclusion stunned her a little. Something had to be done and had to be done now. Every moment meant life wasted. The worst thing was, there was only one person who would remotely listen to her, and she really didn't want to speak to them. But she didn't have the tools she needed and her theory was just so _awful_ if it was true after all this time that she _needed_ someone to bounce the idea off. Just to check she hadn't finally cracked.

After a few more minutes of pacing Hermione gritted her teeth, grabbed some floo powder and went to stand in front of the fire. He'd better not say 'I told you so', she thought as she cast her powder into the fire with a cry of, "Auror Headquarters!"


End file.
